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Aŧül Feb 2020
Oh my Prosperity,
Oh my Serendipity.
Oh my Destiny,
Oh my Honey,
Oh my Austerity,
Oh mother of my Posterity,
Where are you?
My HP Poem #1831
©Atul Kaushal
To stir from my complacency
With the words as my compulsion,
Poems feel like a eulogy
Of my not-dead-yet emotion.

I write to be a memory
For either fondness or for ill,
With words of perpetuity
So that no reader’s heart is still.

The solemn thoughts trapped in my head,
My fingers type to let them out,
So my embarrassment is read
By strangers I know not about.

Writing with ego’s delusion
That when I die my words survive,
But my ironic conclusion
Is that I write to stay alive.
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Donald Jul 2016
I walk down the bay it is full of red roses and fine lilies. The feeling, like a quaint cottage of peace picking sunshine with ease. A hamlet of happiness, a place you find strength gushing through like the home of bees.

The joy the heart beats gently to. This beautiful sights and mellifluous sounds of the lovely water birds, i can't, but admire. Right here one builds words the shape of the pyramids and meanings as old as the heavens. But not until I wake from this image that tricks the mortal me. This castles in the air.

I sit capturing every wave, every sounds, every passing thing I had seen on a piece of paper and the memories of nature running through my mind.

With regrets of what this world could be, I wish for more but for posterity I write- for the love of nature and for the joy of poetry. May these words give strength, I say and may the sun never die to my feet for I have seen love.

And so dear reader nature may be God.. Just maybe, we may never know. What do we know? We keep telling ourselves how well we do, yet it hurts us every passing day for we do not want to try the little things to safe earth.

Nature could hand us a hand of friendship, we could never tell, for we do not want to see, our vision happily blurred. How much it calls every passing day, silently crying through our eyes and ears. Through our nose and skin. Through the air, the sea. through day, through night. Wake up, wake up, the world is falling apart. Pick me up and clean me for you need me in this journey of time. Yes You need me like a baby needs a mother's tender love and care.

But to us what a fiction, to God what a pity.

SassyJ Jan 2016
Our lips sealed, a kiss

The airport commotion*

The notion of distance

The motions separating

The oceans disengaged

Impeding progressions

Enlightened lightening

The fading phone calls

Evicted complications

Bouncing frequencies

I float in dreams a high

Sandwiched decisiveness

The bubbled head pangs

The battered heart hang

My littered sight fanged

Banged and wrung

A declined mass rolling

Angling insanity hurts

*Fighting gyrating posterity
If the throne twist in your heart.. would you wait?
If the eyes have been set to a salty stone then crystallised... would you wait?
If you give it your all and the storm erases.... would you wait?
If the distance protracted elongates miles after miles... would you... would you wait?
Sad faces
Indiscreet dreams
Platitudes and penance.

Secluded thoughts
Glimpses of posterity
Legacies and lotteries.

Tributes to the dead
Blasphemous flowers
Anonymity and indifference.

— The End —